


Not So Innocent

by Miya_Morana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miya_Morana/pseuds/Miya_Morana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles hates witches, Derek reveals a little-known fact about werewolves, and one of them finally makes a move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Innocent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "virginity" on my [cheaty kink bingo card](http://miya-tenaka.livejournal.com/147410.html).

Witches, seriously, _witches_ ? Stiles’s life sucks. Okay, to be honest, Stiles’s life is awesomely exciting and most of the times he loves that he’s amongst the few people who are “in the know”, but much more often than he likes he gets into these horrible, life-threatening situations that make him long for the old days of blissful ignorance and banality. 

He sneezes when one of the semi-naked women blows some kind of glittery powder in his face. Ordinarily the partial nudity would have captured his attention, but right now he’s much more concerned by the jars and bowls full of disgusting stuff, the ropes tying him up to a tree trunk, and the very sharp-looking knives. Yeah, those in particular he focuses on. Also, he’s pretty sure he now looks like one of these low-rate fake vampires for teenagers, those that stupidly don’t burn in the sunlight.

The witches are chanting now, and he would have expected some kind of mysterious-sounding language, like Welsh or Latin, something that he wouldn’t have been able to understand, but no. They’re chanting in plain old English. Not phrases or complete sentences, but a string of very ominous words, such as “blood” and “sacrifice” and “power”. “The blood of the innocent”, one of them keeps singing on top of the others in a shrilled, pitchy, high tone. 

“I’m not innocent!” Stiles tries to tell them. “I’m really not! You have the wrong guy, ladies!”

And it’s the truth. Someone innocent doesn’t cover up murders committed by supernatural creatures, or steal police property, or lie to everyone about everything, right? But they don’t believe him, or don’t listen to him, or maybe they just don’t care. And the chanting continues.

Then the one that had been singing on top of the others, which happens to be the one that threw glitter or something at him, moves towards him, and the light of the bonfire shines off the big, sharp knife in her hand. She’s still chanting, or mostly screaming, and her tiny, almost drunken steps bring her ever closer to Stiles.

“I’m not innocent! I’m not!” he cries out again, because it’s the only thing he can do.

There’s a disturbance in the background chanting when a blond, animal-looking girl takes down one of the witches. The woman right in front of Stiles turns her head to see what happened, but someone huge and strong jumps on her before she has the time to see Erica, Isaac, Boyd and Scott chase off the group of witches.

Derek knocks the head-witch back, sending her flying into the woods, far enough that the flames from the bonfire don’t even light up the place where she lends. Not that Derek seems to care, he’s too busy untying Stiles, cutting through the ropes with his claws.

Stiles takes a shaky step forward, and when his knees give out under him Derek’s suddenly there, holding him up long enough for Stiles to get his balance back. His heart is beating at the speed of light and he feels slightly dizzy, but he’s alive and safe, surrounded by the pack he’s sort of a part of and sort of not.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks, standing right next to them.

Stiles’s mouth is too dry for him to speak, which must be a first, so he just nods in answer. He looks around him carefully.

Isaac is a couple of feet away, trying to look as if he doesn’t care about how Stiles is even if it’s not entirely true, and Boyd is coming back into the fire light from where he probably chased off some of the witches. Erica is crouching in front of the only witch still there, growling, claws out and sharp, long teeth showing. The witch is trapped between the roots of a very large tree, and every time she moves a little bit Erica makes this threatening noise in her throat that has the witch whimpering in fear.

“Erica!” Derek calls, and she reluctantly stands up, her face turning back to normal as she joins Isaac and starts to pout.

The witch runs off into the night as soon as the blond werewolf’s turned her back to her. As if that would have stopped Erica to rip her into pieces had she had wanted to.

They make their way back through the wood, the silence broken only by Erica occasionally chitchatting at Isaac. Derek and Scott walk to each side of Stiles, not too close that he’d bump into them but close enough that if he stumbled again they’d be able to catch him instantly. It gives him a nice, fuzzy feeling inside his stomach that he will never talk about to anyone, ever.

When they reach Derek’s Camaro, it becomes obvious to Stiles that they’ll never all fit in there. He honestly wonders how they managed to squeeze five werewolves in the small car. Fortunately, both Erica and Boyd decide they’ll make their own way home, so it’s just Scott and Isaac on the back seat while Stiles gets to call shotgun. Not that there’s any calling going on. It’s like his mouth is refusing to work. Probably due to the fear withdrawal or something. He still has no idea how the pack found him, but quite honestly he doesn’t really care.

They showed up and saved him. What else does he need to know, really?

Derek drops Isaac off first, then Scott, who promises to stop by Stiles’s place in the morning to see how he is. Stiles’s father is working the night, so the house is dark and empty. As he gets out of the car, Stiles looks up at it and shivers. He doesn’t really want to be alone right now. Maybe if he calls Scott his best friend would come over?

“I can stay for a little while if you want.”

Stiles almost jumps, because Derek is right next to him and when did that happen exactly? He shrugs, trying to pretend he doesn’t care either way, but is secretly relieved when Derek follows him inside.

The alpha follows him into the living room, walking right behind him, tall and silent and _reassuring_ , though Stiles has no idea when Derek’s presence switched from terrifying to making him feel safe. He stops in the middle of the room, looking around and trying to figure out what to do now. Also, trying not to lean back against the strong chest right behind him.

“I’m not innocent.” It’s the first words out of his mouth since the whole thing happened in the woods, and he doesn’t even know why he said that. “I don’t know why they chose me, she kept singing about the blood of the innocent, and she clearly meant _my_ blood, but I’m not innocent! I almost died for nothing, ‘cause whatever it was they were trying to do wouldn’t have worked, right? Right?!”

He’s facing Derek now, must have turned around during his rant slash freak-out, and Derek leans in slightly, inhales deeply, and it shouldn’t be sexy but Stiles has stopped counting the amount of things that aren’t what they should be when it comes to werewolves in general and Derek in particular.

“Yes, you are,” he says, voice low. “In the most powerful way where magic is concerned, you are innocent. Virgin.”

“I’m not…!” Stiles tries to protest but the lie dies on his lips. “So what if I am! I’m a guy, it means nothing. It’s not like I had a hymen or something!”

Derek shakes his head. “It’s not about your body, more about your energy. Your soul if you like. The first time you mate with someone, it gives off some kind of energy, some kind of power. Most humans can’t feel it though.”

“But werewolves can?” Stiles asks, looking up into Derek’s intense eyes.

Derek just nods.

Stiles doesn’t know what pushes him to do it. If it’s still the adrenaline from the whole nearly-dying thing, or if it’s something he sees in Derek’s eyes, or if he just goes momentarily crazy. But suddenly his lips are against Derek’s and his hands are holding on tight to Derek’s leather jacket and he thinks that it’s a pity they went into all this trouble to save his life only to have Derek kill him now, because there’s no other way this could end.

Except there is, because Derek whispers something that sounds like “finally” against Stiles’s mouth before kissing him back. Stiles somehow ends up pressed against a wall, which is just _typical_ but he doesn’t care because Derek is kissing his neck and Stiles is wrapping a leg around the werewolf’s waist and why the hell did they wait that long to do this?

“So you’ll feel it?” Stiles asks, breathless, grabbing Derek’s shoulder with one hand and fisting the other one in the werewolf’s short, black hair. “You’ll feel that energy-power thing when you… when you _take me_?”

Derek nips him in the neck, human teeth sinking into Stiles’s skin, and Stiles yelps and bucks his hips against Derek’s. Derek licks and kisses the bruise already forming, and that’s going to be difficult to conceal, difficult to explain, but Stiles doesn’t care. Derek just marked him. Fuck, how can it feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

“What will it feel like?” Stiles asks, because he’s curious, he’s _always_ curious. Derek’s hair is so soft, but his stubble is scratching the skin of Stiles’s neck.

Derek lifts his head, presses his forehead against Stiles. His eyes aren’t exactly alpha red, but there’s a light in there that makes them mesmerizing. One of Derek’s hands is holding Stiles’s leg up where it’s wrapped around his waist, and he uses the other one to almost gently caress Stiles’s cheek.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been with a virgin.” His voice is low, his stare intent, like he’s searching Stiles’s face for something. 

He must have found it, because the next thing Stiles knows is that strong hands are lifting him up, and he wraps both his legs around Derek’s waist while he gets carried upstairs. And he should probably feel upset for being carried around like that, but he’s way too busy kissing Derek all the while, trusting the werewolf not to lose his balance or drop him in the stairs.

They stop several times, Derek pushing him back against a wall so that he can kiss him better, devouring his mouth like he’s hungry for it, but they finally make it to Stiles’s bedroom. Stiles ends up on the bed with Derek on top of him, and he’s almost shaking from enthusiasm as he rids him of his leather jacket, then his shirt. Derek’s chest is a thing of perfection, all chiseled muscles, and even though a lot of people get to see it on a regular basis, he knows none gets to touch it like he’s doing right now and fuck, he’s so skinny and scrawny compared to him!

The mood seems to shift slightly as Derek lets him explore his skin with his hands. Derek’s kisses are slower, almost teasing, and he sits back on his heels, dragging Stiles up with him so that they are kneeling face to face. Stiles stops touching the werewolf long enough to take off his own shirt, trying not to feel too sheepish about the way he looks, but Derek’s eyeing him like he’s never seen anyone more attractive in his whole life, which is kind of really boosting Stiles’s self-esteem.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Is Derek really asking him that? Like there’s any doubt?

“No I don’t want this, I’m only going along for fear of you killing me. Of course I want this! I want you. I _trust_ you, Derek. Now fuck me into the mattress.”

Derek growls softly, but the corner of his mouth is up in what looks very much like a repressed smile.

“Strip.”

There’s power behind the word, alpha power, the kind of power that usually makes Stiles refuse to obey, just because he _can_ , but not now. Now, Stiles fights with his belt buckle and wrestles to get off what little clothes he still has on.

“There’s… There’s lube in the night stand drawer,” he says, and it’s hard not to blush but he knows what else Derek is going to find in there. And yeah, the it is, in Derek’s hand.

“Not so innocent I see.”

“I’m a curious guy, okay?” Stiles says, and he’s proud that his little laugh sounds dismissive and not totally embarrassed.

Derek smirks and puts the dildo back into the drawer before crawling back on top of Stiles, pushing him on his back against the mattress. It’s very obvious to Stiles at this point that Derek is still wearing half of his clothes whereas Stiles is completely naked and vulnerable. It’s kind of unfair. He tells him so.

Derek shuts him up very efficiently, with his mouth. This too is unfair, but Stiles doesn’t care that much, because Derek’s hands are on his thighs, caressing them in slow circles, and Derek’s teeth are pulling at his lower lip, and Stiles’s brain isn’t entirely working anymore. Too much blood left it to go where the party’s gonna be at.

Derek trails his teeth against the skin of Stiles’s chest in a series of hickeys and kisses. His tongue dives momentarily in his navel and Stiles arches up a little, the tip of his cock brushing against Derek’s chin as he does it. Stiles can’t believe he’s feeling so turned on when Derek hasn’t even touched him where it matters yet.

“Derek, please…” he begs, and Derek’s head tilts up a little bit.

The werewolf’s eyes are still caught mid-way between human and alpha. They look almost golden. Also, Derek is smirking again, the bastard.

Derek’s tongue traces a hot, wet line towards his pubic hair. Then it just goes around the base of Stiles’s cock, almost touching it, but only almost. Stiles might have whined just now, he isn’t entirely sure.

But then Derek is licking his balls, carefully suckling them, licking the soft and very sensitive skin right behind them, and Stiles’s fingers grab his hair as he mumbles incoherent words.

He didn’t hear the tube of lube being opened, but there is a wet finger pressed lightly against his entrance, and Stiles tries to push back against it. Then Derek’s mouth distracts him again as he kisses the underside of his cock, and Stiles’s toes curl up in anticipation.

Derek takes him in his mouth at the same time that he penetrates Stiles’s with his finger. The moan that escapes Stiles’s mouth then must have been heard in the whole street, and apparently he still has enough brain cells to briefly hope no one calls the cops on them, but barely. Then Derek starts to move both mouth and finger and Stiles can only hold on to Derek’s too-short hair and enjoy the ride.

The second finger slips in easily, the stretch of it pleasant, unlike the first couple of times he tried that himself. The third one is a little bit uncomfortable at first. Derek’s fingers are thicker that Stiles’s, and when they’re hold tight together it feels like that dildo he has not-so-hidden in his drawer. But when Derek moves them, stretches Stiles open, that’s just… It’s not painful, but just there on the edge.

Stiles looks down at Derek, who’s lazily bobbing his head up and down his dick and looking back at him, and Stiles has to throw his head back and stop looking because otherwise it’ll all be over too soon.

Derek must have read something on his face, because he lets Stiles’s cock slip out of his mouth with an indecent wet sound. He takes his fingers out too, which leaves Stiles feeling kind of empty and craving for more, and crawls up Stiles’s body to kiss him. Derek’s mouth tastes different, and it takes Stiles a couple of seconds to realize that he’s tasting himself on the alpha’s tongue.

“Can you already feel it?” Stiles asks, because his curiosity will never leave him, not even in this situation.

Derek nods, then buries his face in Stiles’s neck, and seriously, how many hickeys is he going to have tomorrow?

“It’s like a small tremor in the air all around you,” the werewolf says against his skin. “It’s exhilarating. Makes me want to fuck you so much.”

Stiles’s breathe catches for a second.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he asks in what’s almost a whisper, and spreads his legs a little bit more.

Derek pulls back a little and finally, _finally_ gets rid of his jeans, kicking off his shoes and socks at the same time. Then Derek Hale is kneeling on Stiles’s bed, between Stiles’s legs, completely naked, and it’s a sight Stiles will never ever forget because it is just _glorious_. The fact that Derek’s cock is big and hard and wet with precome is kind of the best part. 

Stiles makes a small, hungry noise in the back of his throat. He wants to touch, wants to taste, even if the thought of taking Derek’s cock in his mouth is kind of intimidating, and more than everything he wants to feel Derek in him.

The werewolf squeezes some lube in hi hand before tossing the tube in the vague direction of the nightstand. Stiles watches him as he slicks up his erection with slow, teasing strokes, and when he looks up he sees that Derek’s watching him, watching his reactions. Damn, Derek’s putting on a show for him, isn’t he?

“Derek, please…”

Derek wipes his hand on the sheets –and they’re a mess already anyway so Stiles doesn’t care– and crawls back on top of Stiles. He settles back between Stiles’s legs and kisses him again, the tip of his cock nudging Stiles’s balls until he snakes a hand down to position it against Stiles’s hole. Damn, it feels big.

“Relax,” Derek breathes against his mouth, though the werewolf himself looks anything _but_ relaxed.

Stiles forces himself to take a few deep breaths, and the air smells of Derek, which is familiar and reassuring, so he relaxes just a little bit.

Then Derek is pushing into him, and Stiles’s brain shuts down again, because it feels so fucking good, so much better than fingers or even his dildo, how the fuck can it feel so good even with the slightly painful burning sensation of being stretched too much? Pain and pleasure are tangled together, and he’s not sure where one stops and the other begins.

When Derek is completely inside of him he stops, breathing hard, to give Stiles some time to adjust, or maybe to give himself some time, Stiles isn’t sure.

“Fuck!” Derek growls, burying his face in Stiles’s neck.

“Tell me?” Stiles asks, because Derek is trembling on top of him, and he kind of really wants him to move, so he tentatively squeezes his muscles around him and fuck that feels good!

Derek grunts, starting to slowly get out before slamming back in, and Stiles grabs his shoulders, digging his nails in the hard muscles.

“You so tight,” Derek says. “Look so debauched. I can’t wait. To see you come.” He punctuates his sentences by shoving into Stiles.

“What about the magic energy thingy?” Stiles asks, panting. He wraps one of his legs around Derek’s waist, starts kissing Derek’s neck, biting the hard line of his jaw.

“It’s buzzing around you. Makes me want to take you. Over and over again. To mark you as mine.”

“Good,” Stiles says, and then he moans as Derek hits his prostate. After that it’s just a string of incoherent grunts ands moans and the occasional “faster”, “oh yes” and other “fuck, do that again” as Derek’s rhythm picks up and Stiles starts to move with him, pushing his hips to meet his thrusts.

Stiles isn’t going to last very long, he knows it somewhere in the back of his fried-out mind, but he doesn’t care, can’t ask Derek to slow down, because it feels so good, especially once Derek’s hand takes hold of his neglected cock and starts pumping in rhythm. The pressure builds up inside him until it’s too much, until he’s coming all over Derek’s hand and his own stomach, the werewolf’s name on his lips.

Derek shudders on top of him, thrusts in a couple of more times before his whole body tenses up, and then Stiles can feel him come inside of him, and fuck, that feels so weird, but in a good way.

He’s kind of grateful that Derek doesn’t just collapse on him afterwards, but kisses him almost gently. He carefully slips out of Stiles’s body, and Stiles feels a little bit empty for a moment. They shift around on the bed until they’re both on their sides, facing each other, breathing the same air, bodies pressed together even though they’re all sticky with sweat and come.

Derek is lightly caressing Stile’s face, his cheek, his jaw, his slightly parted lips, and Stiles presses a small kiss against his fingertips. They kiss again, lazily, and Stiles loves that he’s allowed to do that. That Derek is giving no sign of having any intention to leave any time soon.

“So,” he asks after a few minutes of this, “was it good? Should I worry that you’re going to go out looking for virgins now?” His tone is joking, but there’s a small lump in his throat that might be genuine worry.

Derek huffs against Stiles’s mouth. “It felt good. When you came, it felt almost like _I_ was coming too. And then, of course, I really was.” He pauses, just the time to press his lips against Stiles’s. “I don’t want other virgins though. I want you.”

Stiles smiles. “Good,” he says, worming a leg between Derek’s. “Though next time maybe we should be a it smarter and not completely forget about the whole condom thing.”

“Stiles, I’m a werewolf. Diseases don’t survive one second in my body. And it’s not like I could get you pregnant, so I figured, why bother?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Stiles admits, stifling a yawn. “The werewolf metabolism thing, not the baby thing, that one was obvious. Good. Very good.”

“A lot of things seem to be good.”

“That’s because they are!” Stiles grins, snuggling closer against Derek’s warm body.

Derek grabs the messed up sheets and manages to cover them partially. Stiles yawns again, and Derek wraps an arm around him.

“Don’t freak out if I’m gone when you wake up,” Derek says softly. “Wouldn’t want your dad finding me here.”

“Yeah, he’d probably shoot you first and ask question later,” Stiles agrees sleepily. “I hate it when you get shot.”

“I hate it too.”

Stiles laughs softly against Derek’s neck. He can feel himself starting to fall asleep. It feels comfortable, _natural_ to do that in Derek’s arms. Derek smells like sweat and sex and _pack_ , and like _Derek_ , and Stiles smiles as he drifts into sleep, happy.


End file.
